AEGIS EVOLUTION

by S. S. Segran

  “Shoot them!” an officer cried.

  The crowd behind the fence screamed as submachine guns and assault rifles sprayed the infected masses. Bodies dropped. Sanguine splatters painted the ground. Within seconds it was over. All that could be heard was the fading echoes of the gunshots in the downpour.

  A wail rose from somewhere within the throng of people. “You slaughtered them! Animals!”

  Beside Gareth, the girl stood drenched in rain and shock. She’d held her brother’s head against her so he would not witness the massacre that had taken place, so he could not see their parents lying amongst the rest of the shredded corpses. The Sentry put his arms around the two of them. The teenager buried her face into his chest, body heaving. Gareth stared over her head at the carnage as rain washed the blood along the platform and down the tracks. Some of the soldiers removed their gas masks. One fell to his knees, retching. Another sank to the ground and was enfolded in the arms of her comrades.

  An older Russian couple cut through the traumatized crowd. The girl pulled away from the Sentry. Sobbing, she ran to them with her brother in her arms. Gareth watched for a moment, then turned and slunk back into the building. He pulled himself over the turnstiles but slipped and fell over to the other side. Pushing his back against the metal barrier, he sat in the dark, face covered, shoulders shaking. He could taste salt on his lips, and the pungent reek of blood wafted into his nose, making him feel ill.

  Something vibrated in his pocket. He pulled out his phone; the caller ID was blocked. He wiped his eyes and cleared his throat, buying time to compose himself, then answered. “Hello?”

  A coy voice responded. “Gareth Vaughn.”

  The Sentry was not in the mood for games. “Who is this?” he snapped.

  “The woman you’ve been looking for. I’m Dr. Deol.”

  35

  Aari removed his sunglasses to take in the grandeur of the expansive manicured gardens that cascaded over nineteen terraces, the entire length of Mount Carmel. Whew, he thought. What a view.

  The Bahá’í Gardens in Haifa were divided into three sections; lower, middle and upper. Aari, Tegan, Mariah, Kody and Marshall milled on the topmost balcony of the latter, soaking in the serene aura of one of Israel’s most popular tourist attractions. Palm trees, fountains and countless vivid flowers flowed down the slope. A white marble structure crowned in a glinting, hundred-and-twenty-foot golden dome enthroned the center of the hillside. Two sets of stairs stretched from the summit to the bottom courtyard, flanked by rivulets. Just past the foot of the courtyard, a long road lined with restaurants and shops on both sides extended toward the port, opening onto the dazzling Mediterranean Sea.

  Aari shook his head in wonder. The design of the garden… just stunning. Not to mention the building we saw while driving up that looked like the Parthenon! Man, what a place!

  Mariah, beside him, linked her arm through his. “It’s so beautiful,” she murmured. “I wish Jag was here to see all this.”

  “Some contrast, huh?” Marshall said, leaning on the marble railing, a breeze sweeping through his hair. “Being in an oasis like this while the world is on fire.”

  Tegan nodded. “And the irony is that amidst everything, we find solitude in the Middle East of all places.”

  Aari chuckled. “I guess Israel’s security paranoia paid off. They’re not completely free of the virus but at least they’re somewhat safer.”

  “Okay, I hate selfies, I really do,” Kody said, “but can we take one picture?”

  “Yes!” Mariah pulled the others close.

  One of the guards at the entrance, no older than twenty, poked his head past the gate. “Hey, guys! I can take that photo for you if you like.”

  Kody passed him his phone and the guard snapped away, then returned the device. “Thanks, my dude,” Kody grinned. “You don’t sound like a local. Where you from?”

  “Germany.” The guard jerked his chin at the entrance where an Asian girl was laughing with one of the local security personnel. “And she’s from Australia. We volunteer here.”

  “So you’re…”

  “We’re Bahá’ís, yeah.” The guard nodded down the slope. “How do you like it?”

  “It’s gorgeous,” Mariah gushed. “Your gardeners do an amazing job. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

  To their left, a man came up the stairs to the balcony. “Some call it the Eighth Wonder of the World. I’ve worked here for years but I never get tired of the view.”

  The gardener wore dirty gray pants and a black sweater. He looked to be in his early sixties and was deeply tanned, with short white hair. The corners of his russet-brown eyes crinkled as he smiled. “You must be the group the guards said is looking for me.”

  The guard who took their photo trotted back to the gate to give them space. Marshall extended his hand. “Yes! I’m Marshall, and that’s Tegan, Aari, Kody and Mariah.”

  “I’m Asa.” The man pumped the Sentry’s hand. “Welcome to Haifa. Now, what brings you here?”

  “More like who—the Welsh twins.”

  The gardener’s face lit up. “Deverell and Gareth! Those rascals… good boys, them. Why did they send you?”

  “We were hoping you could help us. They said you have extensive knowledge about the history of the region, and that you’ve also got a great collection of artifacts.”

  “They said that, hm?” Asa folded his arms. “And what are you looking for?”

  “We’re on a mission to hunt down a relic from about two thousand years ago, give or take,” Aari explained.

  The gardener’s eyes bore into them. “A mission, hm?”

  The group swapped glances. He’s not going to give things up easily, Aari thought. The only reason he’s even entertaining us right now is probably because we mentioned Gareth and Dev.

  Asa studied each of them, his demeanor gradually softening, then said, “I have another hour until I’m done for the day. Meet me at the garden entrance at the bottom of the hill. We can chat then.”

  He strode away without waiting for a response, leaving the Sentry and the teenagers alone on the terrace.

  * * *

  The group milled around the fountain in the middle of the courtyard, waiting for Asa. A tortoiseshell cat padded past them toward the exit, rubbing its head against the leg of one of the female guards at the gate. Tegan moved toward the small animal and just as Aari reached out to pull her back, Asa appeared outside of the entrance, waving at them. “Yalla!”

  The group joined him. He noticed them looking at the cat and grinned. “That’s a local to the gardens. You’ll find a lot of strays in Haifa, but the ones in here are usually a lot friendlier.”

  Aari tugged Tegan away from the cat. “You can’t go around petting every animal you see, Teegs.”

  She huffed but allowed him to pull her away. “Watch me.”

  “So, Asa,” Marshall began. “We—”

  “No, no, no.” The gardener smiled courteously but firmly. “I insist we talk business after tea at my place. Come.”

  Aari, seeing the Sentry rub his knuckles against his short beard and suppress a breath, offered the man a consoling look.

  Mariah gazed up the terraces at the lustrous, golden-domed building in the heart of the gardens. “Is that a temple?” she asked, pointing.

  “It’s a shrine,” Asa replied. “The Shrine of the Báb.”

  “Shrine of the what?”

  “The Báb. It means ‘the Gate’ in Persian. The Báb was the martyr-herald of the Bahá’í Faith. Kind of like John the Baptist.”

  “A herald?” Aari asked. “For who?”

  Asa gave him a friendly slap on the back. “That, habibi, you have to find out yourself.”

  “What about you?” Tegan asked. “Are you a Bahá’í?”

  “Mm-mm, no. I’m a crusty old agnostic, my dear, and I’ll probably go to my grave that way.” He chuckled. “But there are some tenets of the Bahá’í Faith that I can relate to.”
/>   “Like what?”

  “Hmm… Well, for one, it calls for impartial investigation of truth, of reality, so blind imitation is discouraged. And it believes that humanity is evolving to a point where the call for unity is not just timely, but essential for our survival. Looking at the world today, that’s something I can’t argue with. As someone once said, it’s like treading the mystical path with practical feet.”

  Aari leaned toward Marshall. “I kinda dig that,” he whispered. “Sounds like something the Elders would say, no?”

  “And these terraces,” Mariah said, “you take care of them?”

  “Yes. It’s a lot of work, but we have a dedicated team of gardeners and volunteers that tend to it diligently. It does get harder in the summer, though. Still, great place, nice people.”

  “I’ve noticed,” Tegan piped in, “that very few people in Haifa wear masks.”

  “That’s because it’s relatively safe here,” Asa told her. “The moment there was news about the disease in Europe, the Israeli government tightened security and began working on a method to identify those with the sickness. Just yesterday they handed out individual test kits to the public, trying to get them into the hands of every citizen here. And they’ve also delivered a bunch of them to the UN.”

  “Yeah, my pal that we’re bunking with brought home several kits last night,” Marshall said. “We’re all clean.”

  “That’s good. In all of Israel, there have only been six cases of the violent strain and less than a dozen of the other one. Those found to be infected and their families have been quarantined.”

  Kody let out a low whistle. “You guys are really prepared.”

  “We have to be. We’re a small country that’s constantly under threat.”

  They turned onto another street and followed Asa up a walkway that led to a white, two-story stone house with a small, expertly manicured lawn. Asa explained that the first floor accommodated all the basic necessities of a home and the top floor was entirely dedicated to his private collection of artifacts.

  He sat the group down on two wooden-framed couches in the living room and served them hot tea and fruit, still insistent that they not speak of business until after. He sat across from them and, as he took a small sip from his cup, the friends and Marshall knocked back their drinks. Asa, though surprised, continued to consume his tea at a more leisurely pace. Aari noticed Kody’s impatient leg shaking, prompting Marshall to shoot the green-eyed teenager a look to calm him.

  I know, buddy, Aari thought sympathetically. It’d be nice if we could get a move on and see if this guy has any leads. Or even better, the box itself.

  “Alright,” Asa finally said, putting his cup down. “Tell me everything.”

  “We’ve been searching all over for an artifact,” Aari said, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush. “We went to Masada where it was supposed to be buried. We scoured museum collections online. No one has it. No one’s heard of it. We’re hoping you can help, because it could hold the answer to this outbreak. It could be a cure.”

  Asa seemed caught off guard by the outpour of information but recovered quickly. “A cure, huh?” He leaned back, interest budding in his tone. “But what is it?”

  “Right, sorry. It’s this wooden box—”

  “Clad in brass,” Mariah added.

  “Brass, yes,” Aari said. “And it contains these extremely rare seeds from an extinct tree.”

  “There are markings on the lid.” Marshall nodded at the friends. “The pattern is similar to this.”

  The teenagers removed their pendants and placed them on the table facing Asa. The gardener examined first the carved crystals, then the intricately-worked metal around them. His finger traced the detailed engravings. “Patterns like this?” His forehead crinkled for a long minute. The group fidgeted in the quiet. Then, he shook his head. “I don’t believe I have anything that matches the description of your artifact, my friends. I’m sorry.”

  “Are you sure?” Tegan pressed. “If it helps, the box was last seen during the Siege of Masada.”

  Asa’s jaw worked from side to side, brows furrowed. “Well, there is one thing… I think there might actually be a box somewhere in my collection. Rega.”

  As he disappeared upstairs, Kody leaned towards Aari. “What does rega mean?”

  “Wait,” Aari said.

  “For what?”

  “No, no. Rega means ‘wait’.” Aari looked over at Tegan. The girl had been peering out of the window every few minutes. “Teegs,” he said quietly.

  She shushed him. “I know what you’re thinking, and of course Reyor’s people won’t be stupid enough to be standing right outside the house, but it doesn’t hurt to check.”

  Asa called out for them to join him. The friends reached for their necklaces on the table but as they did, the pendants quivered ever so slightly, drawing towards each other. The teenagers paused. Kody, his hand hovering midair, mumbled, “Umm… maybe that was an earthquake?”

  “Nothing else in the house shook,” Tegan said slowly. “Only the pendants.”

  They looked to Marshall, who only gave them a bewildered shrug. They grabbed their pendants and ran up the masonry stairs. A wall with a single entrance blocked off the entire second floor. They stepped through, found themselves in a decontamination chamber where powerful air jets blew dust from them and their clothing, then entered a second door into a cold, dim room. As Aari’s eyes adjusted, he felt his inner nerd leap for joy.

  Small incandescent lights lit a long workbench at the center of the room. Against each wall, rows of shelves housed carefully-preserved artifacts ranging from documents to various kinds of weapons. The windows were blacked out and the low-powered fluorescent fixtures had been darkened. UV filters, Aari thought. Smart. The low hum of an air conditioning unit and dehumidifiers filled the space.

  Mariah shivered, pulling her jacket tighter around herself. “It’s freezing in here.”

  “It helps preserve my collection,” Asa said, placing a plastic tub with an air-tight cover at the center of the workbench. As the group joined him, he pulled on a pair of latex gloves and reached into the tub, removing a cubic object enclosed in linen. “This is very, very old, from the time the Romans were in Israel. It must be handled with care, so unfortunately I cannot let you touch it. I don’t know where it was found, exactly—it’s been passed between a few collectors before me.”

  He unwrapped the linen. Aari’s eyes gleamed as the lights from the workbench bounced off the coppery shell of a wooden box.

  “Is that it?” Kody whispered. “Is that our box?”

  The group moved closer to get a better view. Aari’s face fell. “This is bronze, not brass.”

  “And the markings are different,” Tegan said, holding her pendant above it. “The ones on the box look like a bunch of tiny Roman numerals.”

  “Asa, could we maybe take a look inside?” Marshall asked.

  The gardener obliged. Aari peered in, feeling a surge of optimism only to have it slashed. The box was empty. Asa, covering the artifact and placing it back in the tub, saw the despair on his guests’ faces and apologized. “This is the only box I have from that era.”

  Marshall did his best to feign a smile. “It’s alright. Thank you for your help, Asa. You’ve been incredibly gracious to a bunch of strangers.”

  “Any friend of the twins is a friend of mine,” the gardener said kindly. As the group headed toward the exit, Asa stopped them. “Tell me more about this artifact you’re looking for. What is its story?”

  Aari, his fingertips touching the door handle, pulled back. The teenagers glanced to Marshall for direction, unsure how much they could divulge. The Sentry took in their expressions, then made his way back to Asa with them.

  “The seeds we’re looking for come from something called the Tree of Life,” he said. “These seeds were in the possession of a select group of people. In this case, they were under the care of a pair of siblings, a boy and a girl w
ho lived in Masada, but they weren’t Jewish. Actually, they weren’t even local. They were part of an ancient race of seafarers who lived around the region. The last we heard, the seeds were kept in a special box and supposedly buried in a cave in Masada when the Romans attacked the fort. But we checked and the box wasn’t there. It’s believed that one of the siblings, the brother, was killed in the attack after the box was hidden.”

  “And the girl?” Asa asked; he could not hide his intrigue.

  “All contact with her was lost.”

  “Contact? How were they in contact? With who?”

  Marshall gave a sheepish grin. “That, we can’t quite say.”

  Asa removed his gloves, mouth quirked sullenly to one side. “I’m sorry, guys. I really wish I could be of more help. If these seeds of yours are really the cure for the disease… the world could use them right now.”

  Aari fell in behind Kody as Asa led the way back out through the decontamination chamber. The boys shared weary looks. As the gardener reached for the second door, he spun around, causing a pileup behind him. “Wait!” he cried, bulldozing back into the room. The friends and the Sentry hurried after him.

  “What is it?” Marshall asked

  Asa swung his head from side to side, scrutinizing the artifacts on the shelves. “It just struck me… that story of yours sounds a little familiar…” He started to rummage through several large plastic tubs.

  “Familiar?”

  “Yes, I read it somewhere.”

  The Sentry looked confused. “You read about the seeds?”

  “I meant about what happened at Masada.”

  “It’s in Flavius Josephus’s writings about the siege,” Aari supplied. “It’s the only account there is.”

  “No, habibi. I’m talking about the girl and the box.” Asa worked his way around the room. “Where did I read it…” He opened the cover of one tub. “Aha! It’s in the letters!”

  “What letters?” Tegan asked, looking over the man’s shoulder.

  “The letters that never made it to Rome.” Asa hoisted the tub onto the workbench and pulled on another pair of gloves. “I purchased these almost thirty years ago from a collector who got it from another collector who got it from a thief. But we won’t talk about that.”